


Fluorescent Adolescent

by Dresupi



Series: A Very Common Crisis [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cheating, F/M, Ficlet, Kitchen Sex, POV Darcy Lewis, Prompt Fill, Rich Lady/Poolboy, Shameless Smut, Smut, Table Sex, desperate housewives - Freeform, poolboy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: She was going to hell for this.  She was a married woman. Kind of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on 5 March 2016 on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/post/140537909659/fluorescent-adolescent-arctic-monkeys).
> 
> Anon on tumblr prompted: "Fluorescent adolescent. Arctic monkeys. Quicktaser. Please and thank."
> 
> Okay, Nonny. I know you didn’t request smut. But that song, kind of demands it? If this isn’t what you wanted, please feel free to send me another prompt. But this wouldn’t leave me alone. I hope this is okay!
> 
> Things to know: Pietro is younger here, 19 years old. Darcy is 26 and unhappily married. There’s some infidelity going on here. It’s all very Desperate Housewives. Pool-Boy/Rich Lady. 
> 
> Link to the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ma9I9VBKPiw)

Darcy stepped out on the back porch, making her way out to her favorite lounge chair.  She was going to hell for this.  She was a married woman. 

Kind of. 

She was under the impression that married women got laid…at least some.  Of course, she’d imagined spending a lot more time with her husband too.  Which was difficult.  Because he was always jetting off to some place or another.  Leaving her here with a credit card that had no limit and a huge ass house at her disposal.

If she wasn’t so introverted, she might throw more parties.  Self-medicate.  Get some plastic surgery. Shop till she dropped. 

As it was, she’d balked at the price tag on this designer bathing suit and had decided to start eating Greek yogurt for breakfast.  She’d read her way through her amazon wish list and was currently working through the huge library Ian had set up here.  Sure, she was lonely, but she wasn’t really ever bored.   

She’d been spending her summer out by the pool.  Never really getting IN it…that kind of thing lost all charm once you grew boobs. 

And she wasn’t really tanning...not much, anyway.  She sometimes got pink, but it always came back to this…faded taupe color. 

She wasn’t even really fond of the outdoors, to be honest.  The bugs bothered her, so she’d had the gardener plant a bunch of citronella to keep them away. 

No, the reason she kept coming out here…kept exposing her fair complexion to the dangers of the big scary sun, kept swatting rogue mosquitos off her neck, kept turning herself on this lounge chair so she’d cook evenly…was because of Pietro the pool boy. 

Yes.  The Pool Boy™.  As if this couldn’t get any more Desperate Housewives.

He wasn’t a minor at least.  And she knew that for certain, because Ian didn’t employ minors.  Everyone down to the guy who changed out the fresh flowers was legal.  Both in age and citizenship. 

But seriously, she was lusting after a guy who couldn’t be older than 20.   He still had peach fuzz for crying out loud.  Peach fuzz and a six-pack.  It was all very confusing. 

His hair was bleached blond.  Bad dye job.  Bad.  BAD.  But he took his shirt off when he cleaned out the pool and sometimes he bent over to clean out the filters and…

Fuck.  She was going to hell. 

God.  She needed to just pack it up.  Go back inside.  Give up and start wearing leopard print stretch pants. He wasn’t going to be interested in anything she was offering anyway.  She was too old.  Past her prime.  Well…not past. 

She was 26.  She needed to take a fucking chill pill.  But she WAS married.  To the guy who signed his paychecks.  So there was that. 

She sat on the chair, pulling out her suntan lotion.  Time to lather up.    

“Ms. Boothby?” his voice.  God.  It was deep.  She didn’t know what she was expecting.  He was a fucking enigma.  Peach fuzz and an accent that could melt her panties right off.  If she’d been wearing any.  Bikini bottoms.  Those were in sincere danger of melting right now.  

“Lewis…” she corrected him. 

He frowned, pointing to himself, “Pietro?” 

She rolled her eyes.  “I know.  My last name is Lewis.  I didn’t take his name.” She waved her hand flippantly.

“Oh…” he raised his eyebrows, nodding.  “Anyway…I was wondering if you wanted me to do the PH’s today?  You…uh…won’t be able to get in the water.” 

“I guess I’ll have to find another way to entertain myself…” she said.  Deliberately.  Because she NEVER got in the water.  And he’d been cleaning the pool for the entire summer.  Three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, Saturday.  And she’d never once gotten in the pool.  Of course, he’d never once said a fucking word to her either.  Or so much as looked in her direction.  That she knew of, anyway. 

He was still standing there.  Staring blatantly at her chest and she panicked, wondering if one of the ladies had popped out to say hi.  That had been an initial worry when she’d bought this suit.

She looked down, but seeing nothing out of place, she looked back up at him, still staring at her cleavage like it was the holy fucking grail or something. 

“Hey…Fetus-Boy!”  she arched an eyebrow, but didn’t cover herself.  Because she was a thirsty, thirsty sinner.  “Quit staring.” 

His face turned bright red and he turned abruptly, muttering to himself and walking over to the pool house to grab the net from the shed beside it. 

She smirked to herself, pushing out her chest a little before bending at the waist to rub lotion over her legs and thighs. 

He came back, empty-handed, walking with a sense of purpose.  “I am NOT a fetus…” he said firmly.  “I’m nineteen years old.  I just…wanted you to know that.” 

She was right. No older than twenty.  She was a terrible, terrible person. 

She snorted, sliding her hand from her thigh down to her ankle.  “Okay…so you’re just a garden variety pervert, then?  A peeper?” 

“I don’t look at ANYTHING that isn’t on display,” he said pointedly, his gaze flicking down to her chest again. 

“Touché…” she conceded, feeling a little bolder.  She held out the lotion bottle to him.  “Can you get my back?” 

His eyebrows shot up.  “Are-are…are you sure?”

_No, you didn’t wander into a porn set.  This is real life, Porn-Boy…POOL-Boy._

She pressed her lips together and nodded.  “Yep.  Need some on my back, I don’t want to get burnt.” 

He took the bottle from her.  “Wouldn’t want that…it’s really hot out here.” 

“Yep.  Really hot…” she repeated, turning her back to him.  Her skin tingled as he brushed her hair to one side, over her shoulder.   The lotion wasn’t cold; it had warmed considerably in the sun.  Or his hands were just feverishly hot.  He kneaded it into her shoulders, rubbing it down her back, thumbs catching briefly in the bathing suit strap across her back. 

He spread the lotion over the small of her back.  “Ms. Lewis?”  he ventured, his voice no louder than a whisper. 

“Hmm?”

His fingers teased up her spine, making her inhale sharply.  “I’m sorry for staring.” 

“No you’re not…” she smirked. 

She felt his head shake, “No, I’m not…I was enjoying the view…but I’m sorry if I offended you.” 

She shook her head, “I took it as a compliment…” she could feel his lips close to her skin.  “Are you thirsty?” she asked, feeling the need to get inside.  Out of the back yard.  Not that she had any neighbors who would rat on her for flirting with the pool boy…but she was very close to ripping off her suit and letting him fuck her here on the patio.  THAT might get some play in the gossip circles.   

“I am parched.” 

She got up, leaving her book and everything there on the chair.  She sauntered in a way that she hoped was sexy, desperately hoping she didn’t have lines from the lawn chair on the backs of her thighs, or an unfortunate wedgie or something. 

He followed her inside, whistling at the cathedral ceilings and ornate woodwork. She had to admit, this house was gorgeous.  Of course, she DID have to live in it alone.  With a man whose passions ran…luke warm if they ran at all.  Pietro rubbing lotion on her back had been the most action she’d gotten in…God…months?    

She went to the kitchen, washing her hands and implying that he should follow suit.  He did.  He was remarkable at reading body language. Or maybe she was just horny as hell and was finding any reason in the world to be attracted to him. 

“What do you want?” she asked, walking over to the fridge.  “I think all we have besides water is like…Perrier and Gatorade…” 

His arm around her waist was strong.  He spun her around, his lips attaching to hers, taking her breath away.  He tasted like cinnamon.  Red Hots.  Big Red Gum.  Fuck. His lips were perfect, pulling hers and pushing with equal vigor. He was a little spitty, but she wasn’t complaining.  He wasn’t thrusting his tongue down her throat, so she was a happy camper. 

Very happy.  Fuck, was that…?  Poking her in the stomach.  God…

She moaned into his mouth, her pussy clenching at the thought of an erection already THERE. Waiting.  Ready.  God, sometimes she couldn’t get Ian hard when she had him in her mouth.  And here was this guy, rutting against her stomach, already hard enough to hammer nails just from touching her. 

 It made her feel…wet.  Horny. 

Fuck…it made her feel WANTED. 

His hands slid up her stomach, pulling the triangles of fabric covering her breasts aside, thumbs rubbing over her nipples. 

He stopped suddenly, reaching down to hoist her up on his front, turning to deposit her on the kitchen table.  Up higher.  She could reach him better and he didn’t have to bend. 

“I’m too short…” she giggled.  Straight up giggled. Like an idiot.   

“You’re just right…” he murmured, lips grazing hers.  “I’m too tall…” 

He slotted himself between her legs.  Pausing for a moment, half a frown starting on his face. 

_Oh God, he’s having second thoughts…_

“What’s your name?” he asked, still frowning. “I don’t know your name.” 

She laughed, “Darcy.” 

“Darcy…” he repeated.  “That’s so…” 

“Cutesy?  Something you’d name a dog?  Yeah.  I know.  Get back to…” she looked down at his shorts. His tented shorts.  She bit her bottom lip and reached out to rub it. “This?”    

He moaned, his head dropping to her shoulder.  His arms shook, gripping her hips hard.  “Darcy…”

Okay, so coming out of his mouth.  With that accent, with that desperate lilt in his voice…maybe her name wasn’t so bad after all. 

He reached up, pulling her hand away and pressing it down to the table.  He leaned down, sucking a nipple into his mouth.  She groaned, feeling his tongue flick lightly over the stiff peak. 

His hand slid up her leg, pushing aside her bikini bottoms.  His fingers slid against her outer lips, parting them easily as she spread her legs further.  He released her breast, straightening slightly. 

He mumbled something, words she didn’t understand.  Two fingers rubbed her clit in slow circles.  “Like that?” he whispered, “Show me how you like it…” 

She moaned, rocking her hips against his fingers before reaching for his shorts, “I’ll show you how I like it…”  She yanked down the waistband, freeing his erection.  Her eyes grew wide.  “Fuck…I didn’t know they made them that big…” 

He huffed out something that might have been laughter.  He wrapped his hand around it, pumping it a few times. 

“Don’t suppose you have a condom?” she asked. 

He shook his head, “Don’t worry…I won’t put it in you…I can…” he glanced down at his dick, held tightly in his own hand.  “Take care of it.” 

She shook her head.  She’d come this far.  She wanted that inside her. 

“Just...don’t come in me, okay?”

He nodded rapidly, “I won’t.” 

She groaned when he entered her, her head lolling back as he slowly filled her.  She reached down between them, rubbing her clit as he started to thrust.  The table creaked loudly with every movement, the heat building quickly as he grasped her thighs. 

She clenched around him and he swore, quickening his pace.  “Fuck…”

His hips were smacking loudly against her, his fingers were probably going to leave bruises, but she didn’t care, there wasn’t anyone around here to see them. They’d be faded long before Ian ever thought about coming back to the States.   

She whimpered and scissored her fingers over her clit, panting his name over and over as he took her closer and closer to her peak. 

She was close, almost there… 

And he suddenly pulled out, apologizing, “I’m sorry…God…Fuck…I’m sorry…”

She heard the splat as his come hit the tile floor.  She was still panting, her chest heaving.   He was shaking.

“Lay back…” he directed, bending down between her legs, nosing between them, his mouth seeking her heat.  He pushed her back on the table, bent completely over her and the table, her ass sliding across the spot where she’d eaten breakfast that morning.  His tongue worked her clit over and back again, lapping at a steady pace as he slid his fingers up into her cunt, crooking them and pumping them in and out. Which usually didn’t do anything for her, but she was so close and his tongue was fucking magic, and she was honestly touched that he even thought about finishing her when he’d already come all over the marble floor. 

She pulled her legs up, propping her feet on the edge of the table as her orgasm began to roll deep in her gut.  She grabbed his head, sliding her fingers through his hair and holding him still, keeping him there until she was done. 

She tugged him away when it was too much, and he slid his fingers out of her at the same time, leaning on her for just a few moments catching his breath. 

“Thank you…” she heard him murmur, “Fuck…that was amazing…” 

She grinned, “Yeah…that was…fucking wonderful…”

Her phone rang, which was enough to kick both their asses in gear, righting their clothes and cleaning the spluge up off the floor. 

Darcy let it go to voicemail, though, calling to Pietro as he started to go back outside.  “Still want some water?” 

He shook his head, “I brought my own…”

“Right…” 

“But…uh…if you’re ever…thirsty…just uh…let me know.  I’m really good at sharing.” He licked his lips and left her standing in her kitchen, a bottle of Perrier in her hand and a smile on her face that wasn’t going away any time soon.    

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
